Number Seventeen
by Yoshiman
Summary: Live free or die. . . but are you willing to sacrifice everything? STORY COMPLETED
1. Prologue and Chapter One

Hey hey. I'm new to writing pokÃ©mon hybrid fics, but not really. By not really, I mean go read my other work, Video Game. It has hybrids in it, but it's in the crossovers section. As for now, sit back and relax as you read the semi-darkfic I have unleased onto the world!  
  
  
  
NUMBER SEVENTEEN  
  
By Yoshiman  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
Where am I?. . .  
  
  
  
Marcel worked on the Mewtwo project a long time ago. Very little success, as Mewtwo managed to escape. Where he was now, no one knew. But Marc had bigger fish to fry. As he motioned over his complex computer equipment, he studied the formulas that he had written in, only on their paper forms, making sure he had refined them to just the right balance. It was simple, really, no more complex than High Scool Algebra, but it was very new.  
  
  
  
What is this place?. . .  
  
  
  
Satisfied, Marcel returned to his work. He had worked on this project for a very long time, years, perhaps. He was the only one in his underground labratory that was there on a constant basis. Five other people worked on the project, as well as ten security guards that paid off officials that got too nosy. As well as other things. . . Word somehow broke out in the underground about what he was doing.  
  
  
  
What's happenning?. . .  
  
  
  
He checked the computer again. This time though, he was surprised by what he saw. He was about to call out to a collegue, when he remembered he was the last one here. the others had gone out for lunch. Or was it breakfast?  
  
Anyhow, what he was working on now was working out very well indeed. Marc was also surprised it came about so fast after the last one. . .  
  
"Computer, open balcony."  
  
Instantaneously, the computer responded by opening the balcony view to 'The Room.'  
  
  
  
. . . Who am I?. . .  
  
  
  
The lab was indeed a sight to see. It was all underground, yet dry, and had a very nice cave feel to it. At six hundred meters below, there was still power in the station, though all was running quiet, save the doors opening to the balcony.  
  
Marc looked upon his creation. Why he pursued such things, no one really knew but Marc alone. He had his own reasons. Ever since the Mewtwo Project, his desire grew to something more. . .  
  
  
  
. . . What am I?  
  
  
  
A Hybrid. A cross between a human and a pokÃ©mon. That was his creation. This one, obviously because of its purple fur, large round ears, and tail, was half Rattata, although its human aspect was it's bipedialness, height, and brown hair. Not bad for a beginning, Marc thought as he watched the creature in the watertank, but it was only because he didn't want it to escape the way Mewtwo did. . . he could still remember the screams. Great Lugia, he could remember the screams. . .  
  
  
  
This isn't right somehow. . .  
  
  
  
Whatever the reason, the fruits of his labors were finally paying off. The computers didn't show anything wrong with this specimen. This was going to be the perfect plan. . . nothing could go wrong now. Life was good. . . the world in the palm of his hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
  
Run. . . run. . .  
  
I repeated it loudly over and over again in my head, as it was one of the few words I knew how to verbalize. Finally, I had escaped from that prison the called a labratory. But I was being followed.  
  
I didn't know where I came from, I just knew I had to get away, that it wasn't right. It took me a month, by their standards, to learn how to escape in the middle of the night. Since I'm part Rattata, it wasn't difficult to sneak off, just learning all the security mechanisms that I needed to avoid. I had no idea how they worked, but I could bypass them eventually.  
  
It was a nightmare living there, though I never lived anywhere else. No one treated me with decency, with respect. . .  
  
I might have thought that was the only existance, until I found their library. Not including the two years for a mistake to be made in locking my cage, (That is, it not being shut properly) It took me three years to learn how to read, and I found in the books themselves there was more to life than just existing. That's when I decided to escape.  
  
I realized for a long time that I didn't know what to expect of the 'outside world'. Many of the books I read were on Physics and Chemistry, many more on Biology and Genetics. This told me of many things I had never seen before. And then there was this one book.  
  
In the corner of the depository, there was a book that looked like someone was reading it every day, as the spine was folded in several places. The book wasn't on Sciences, it was about people. Just people.  
  
It was just people that led me to believe there was a better life. And here I was, about to die so quickly as I had begun. . .  
  
Suddenly, I found myself at the edge of a cliff. I came to a sliding stop on all fours, and turned around. The men were coming, and fast. I waited for death, or worse, returning to the lair.  
  
Almost as suddenly, from around the cliffside came this giant beast, one I never saw in any of the Biology books, and nearly scared the living daylights out of me. I would have run again, if I hadn't been paralyzed with fear. Did they have monsters at their disposal to recapture me?  
  
The beat came to a grinding halt on it's round, black feet, and it's side opened up. A man stepped out of the creature, an old man, about as tall as I was standing up, with a black shorthair beard and was wearing a green coat. I read about clothes in that people book, but never saw them wear anything but labcoats. He also carried a large, wooden staff. And. . . unlike the other men, he didn't look hostile.  
  
"I've found one of you after all," he said, looking at me. "Quick, get in."  
  
I was stunned moreso than when I had first saw him coming. He motioned towards the beast, and out of respect, obeyed his command.  
  
The thing I climbed into was no beast after all; it was a machine. There was glass to see out of on the front, where I could see the other men approaching us. Instinctively, I ducked my head so they couldn't see me.  
  
"Professor Jones." One of them said, "You have the Rattata Hybrid. We saw you."  
  
"And what of it?"  
  
"He belongs to Cameraeon Co. If you take him, you're a theif!"  
  
The old man gave out a mighty laugh, "Cameraeon Co. isn't even recognized by the government! You raise money by performing covert operations to pay the expenses to your projects. Even if I am stealing, you can't rightfully prosecute me!"  
  
"True. . . but we can kill you. Men!"  
  
I looked up to see what was happenning. The security guards advanced, but the old man wiped half of them out with a swift swing of his staff. Then, planting the rod in the ground, he used the leverage to put force behind his next three kicks, effectively disarming the man that accompanied them.  
  
"Err. . . " He other man said, "You'll never get away with this!" He then turned tail and fled.  
  
The old man who saved me climbed into the carraige and shut the door.  
  
"You'd better put on the seat belt." He said to me, and when I only gave him a blank look back, he continued, "You don't know what it is, do you?" The man reched ovr me and strapped a cloth cord across my waist and chest.  
  
Memories flooded back to me about being strapped down for experimental purposes, and I unconciously attempted to fight it. "Woah, take it easy!" the man exclaimed, "I'll just drive extra carefully. . ."  
  
I never wanted to offend him, but it felt much better with the belt off that it was on. I pulled my legs up on the seat with me. Abruptly, I was startled by a loud noise staring up as the old man was seemingly trying to start the machine again, but this time I restrained myself. Knowing what he was doing, the man turned the vehicle around and started it forward.  
  
"You talk?" The man asked me a moment later. "Yes. . ." I replied, as I could also say that word. I stared absently at the back of my right hand, which had a scar cut into it. It almost looked like something. . .  
  
"Do they give you a name?"  
  
I wasn't listening that time. I rotated my hand clockwise to get a better look at the scar. I knew what it looked like. . .  
  
"Seventeen. . ."  
  
"Seventeen? Just the kind of name they might give someone like you."  
  
I was startled by his response, and immidiatelly started paying more attention to him.  
  
"From now on, I'll just call you Steven, alright?"  
  
I didn't reply, and it seemed as though he didn't expect me to. I wondered. . . "What's. . . your name?" I asked him back.  
  
"I have no idea if you just realized what you said, but people call me Max."  
  
"Max. . ."  
  
The man looked astonished to find out that I knew so much. "What'd they do to you in there?"  
  
I didn't reply. I couldn't reply. I didn't want to think about it.  
  
"Alright, Steve, I'll give that to you. Anything you want to tell me?"  
  
Again I didn't want to say anything, but was compelled to reply nonetheless. "I. . . don't want to. . . go back." I noticed my voice waivered, but at that time I didn't know much about talking anyway.  
  
"I understand completely." He assured me, "You don't have to."  
  
Obviously he didn't understand the level of my intellect surpassed my ability to speak, but I decided not to bother. I brought my legs up to my chest and grabbed hold. I was trying not to mull over my past, but it was happenning anyway. I was crying.  
  
It wasn't openly, I was just tearing. What this man, wanted, I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I was out of my prison, and that's all I cared about.  
  
I took another look at my rescuer. He was wearing a green jacket and blue jeans. . . some kinds of clothes that I read about in the people book. I didn't know why people had to wear clothes. They all seemed to. I never considered myself people anyway. What was I? I never had seen anyone else that looked like me. I saw some that looked sort of like pokÃ©mon (I learned that in the biology books) such as myself. . . but I never read of them. Is that why I was in the lab? I didn't know why that thought crossed my mind. . . it started me thinking of the labratory again.  
  
To many other people, it might have been odd how I 'thought', as I couldn't say many of the words I knew. It was almost like reading them, as a deaf person might do. Naturally, took a little more concentration, especially when I tried to comprehend what others said. Phonics weren't very easy to do when you rarely get to hear people speak.  
  
I looked outside. There was water hitting the glass wall. I read about it once. . . it was called rain, as I recalled. Rain. . . I never could understand it. Water doesn't fall from the sky. . . it's not right. And yet here I was, looking at it.  
  
I heard a click from Max's direction, and there were rods that appeared on the outside of the glass that wiped away the water, probably to clear the view. Max seemed intent on watching where he was going at all time. Was it that hard to do? It didn't look very hard. . . maybe he was just practiced at it.  
  
For some reason, I got curious, and looked behind the chair that I was sitting in. There was another row of seats, and stacked there were some books.  
  
Books! To Max's surprise, I almost leaped into the back seat and started reading one of them. I didn't really understand it. It had things in it I didn't understand, like 'government' and 'economics'. And I just scanned the first page.  
  
"What're you doing?" Max looked into the mirror mounted on the glass. "You can read. . . amazing." I didn't know what the word 'amazing' sounded like, but he seemed to know I shouldn't be able to read. Who was he, really?  
  
I dropped the book and looked for one that I might know something about. Another was about 'war', and another about 'religion'. I never knew subjects ranges farther than the siences, most of which still went over my head though I was practically raised on them.  
  
Then I finally found another book about people. I took it and climbed back to the front seat. This book was about many things that weren't in the other people book. . . I read on the inside cover about it being a 'mystery', though I had no clue what that was. I just wanted to read about people.  
  
There were a lot of new words I hadn't seen before. I knew 'murder' was something bad, as a guy did it and all the other people were after him. Was that what the other people were after me for? I didn't think so a while later, as murder also had to do with blood.  
  
The story kept referring to an Issac Kindowiel. I assumed that he was a good guy, because is kept talking about him. He was after the man who did the murder, but no one knew who the man was. Issac wanted to know, so he tried to figure it out. It was like a puzzle, only the peices were hidden, and you had to be smart to put them together. The book told of many different people as 'suspects', who were people who might have done the 'murder'. I still had no clue what murder was at this point, until they mentioned death.  
  
I read of 'death' in a biology book, and didn't understand what it meant. I caould make a few guesses, and I thought the closest was an 'end' of some sort. It seemed to be bad in this book, but the biology books glide over it as though it were natural. Maybe it was natural. . . but why was anything natural so bad?  
  
"Enjoying that?" Max asked me. I looke up from the book to look at him, but his eyes were still afixed on the road. I didn't respond. I was trying to figure out the word 'enjoying'. "Enjoying?" I tried to ask, and he got what I meant.  
  
"Enjoy. . . To receive pleasure or satisfaction from."  
  
I didn't know any of those words. They seemed to be indicating something good, and yet I didn't know how they supposedly sounded at all. I still didn't reply.  
  
"Can read, but you can't talk. . . there's more to you than meets the eye."  
  
I wish I knew what he said.  
  
  
  
We arrived at a house. It was sort of like one described in the people book, and after seeing it, I realized that some of the descriptions now made sense, and some of the words did, too. I couldn't think of them at the moment, but they made sense.  
  
The house was pretty big, by the standards in the people book. It had to be at least eighty by three hundred feet (assuming I was six feet tall standing), and three floors high. It looked, to use the slang term, 'cool'. I had my head out the side window to get a better look. Way out. Th only thing not out the window was my legs and tail.  
  
"Steven, get back in here!" I sat back down. My hair and fur were wet from the rain that was still falling. Not very wet, just a bit moistened. The window rolled up automatically as Max pushed a button on his armrest. (I read the vehicle owner's manual. It was easier that most other books, because it had pictures.)  
  
The jeep rolled up into a small enclosed space inside the building. Max pressed a button iver his head, and a large door shut behind us from the top down. Then it got dark. Max got out of the car, then went to a side wall and flipped a switch that made some lights flash on, then off. "Great, blew a bulb." He said. (I didn't udestand what he meant. Did something good happen?) "Come on out." He called me.  
  
You might be wondering how I could understand some of the words. It just so happened that back in the lab, they tought me commands. Several commands, though I never tried to speak any until I found the library. The time I first tried to speak them is an entirely different story.  
  
I crawled out of the car. I could see a light from a door opening, and quickly went to it.  
  
Inside there were a lot of things I had neveer seen before, but Max was motioning to me an 'eventually'. He also wanted me to follow him to a room.  
  
In the room there was nothing but the carpet, the white walls and a lone window. I noticed Max was carrying a clipboard and a pencil, the same ones the people at the lab had. "Now Steve," He said, "I'm just going to be checking your general health. I know the doctors at the lab might have been doing the same thing as this, but trust me. This won't hurt."  
  
Trust. I recognized that word as soon as I heard it. I trusted Max, especially after he rescued me. But I didn't respond. I just sat there and waited.  
  
He was right. It didn't hurt, but he checked all too much around the areas I considered private. It also took a long time. He wrote down lots of notes, and even went back for more paper. I caught a glimpse of a few of the notes: 'Front leg muscles extend farther up than the mid thigh, probably for use as bipedial or quadriepedial; Tail is partially prehensile; Hasn't reached puberty yet, assuming will when/if evolves into Raticate; Deficient in several nutrients'; and so on. "I'm not exactly a doctor," Max said, "But I know enough. Now let's get you some clothes."  
  
Clothes? I didn't want clothes. Did I? Maybe I did. . . I never considered it. I mean, me in clothes? I supposed I was going to be staying for a while, So I waited in that room for a moment. Max brought in a t- shirt and some blue jeans and another pair of shorts. He had to cut holes in them for my tail.  
  
I soon found out I didn't like clothes. They were too restrictive, and I couldn't foot-scratch behind my ear with them on. I'm glad he didn't make me put on shoes.  
  
Max wanted me to stand upright. I could do that, even if I was more comfortable on all fours. He told me something about it helping something, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. I did understand it when he asked me if I was hungry. I was.  
  
Max told me that he wouldn't bother teaching me about using a 'fork', mainly because I would probably prefer eating any way I wanted. I still didn't see why I had to wear clothes, though. He told me I'd find out in 'due time'.  
  
The food he served looked weird. He said he didn't have any pokÃ©mon food, as he was never a trainer when he was a kid, but he did look up in some books about rattata 'diets'. The food they gave me at the lab didn't tase like much of anything, but this actually tasted pretty good. It was the first time I had used my taste buds in a while, the last time was a few weeks ago when I got some of my own blood in my mouth. The tasted bad. Max was taking more notes on my behavior while I was eating. It was starting to annoy me. Anything better than the lab, I supposed. I thought he might find it unusual to him that I liked to eat without hands and my dish on the ground. I didn't find anything unusual about it. The others at the lab ate like this, too. Of course, I never saw the doctors there eat.  
  
After the food Max told me he was going to teach me how to speak, but before that, how to write. Write, as in put words down on paper myself. I was pleased by that. I wanted to write something so I could tell him things about the lab.  
  
The first hour was spent trying to get me to hold a pencil, until he decided I was probably left-handed, whatever that was. He put the pencil in the hand opposite the one I was trying it with. It seemed a lot easier.  
  
Max showed me how to draw the letters quickly. He said that they didn't have to be 'perfect' at all, just 'legible'. My first few attempts were not very good, but after a bit I got used to how they were supposed to be. It was then I fond out it was a little hard to recall some words that I knew, but I managed. Max said I was very good at it for being self-taught.  
  
Sometime during the middle of the session, Max taught me how to use the 'facilites'. I'll refrain from elaborating.  
  
Max then started teaching me to talk. He wrote down phonetic symbols and told me how to use them to pronounce a word. Some of the letters, like A, E, I, O, and U had a lot of different forms. It was confusing. It took me a while to get halfway done.  
  
The light was dimming in the window. Max said it was getting late, and we should 'turn in'. I found out that meant going to sleep. Max said I could take off my clothes for that. I asked him why bother putting them on. He said I'd find out. He brought in a mat and a blanket, and told me they'd help me keep warm, because it got cold during the night. I said I would manage, but he insisted. The mat and blanket added to the scenery in the blank room, anyway. He told me to have a good night. I said I would. Max flipped the light switch, and the bulb on the ceiling turned off, and the room was enveloped in darkness. I had no idea what to do with the blanket, so I just curled up and fell asleep.  
  
  
  
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Like? Review! I'm trying to be original here, thogugh I have the worst feeling that someone's beaten me to this. . .  
  
Ciao! 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two, finally! These chapters are a lot longer than the ones in Video Game, and they're a bit more thought-provoking to write than mysterious. You gotta be in the right mood. I wrote it all in two hours tops.  
  
Most of this second chapter is Seventeen's journal, with all appropriate misspellings (Not quite as bad as Flowers for Algernon, if you've read that book, though.) R/R!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Max had taught me to write, so I should probably start keeping a journal. Max handed me a book without any words in it. I didn't know what it was for, until Max gave me a 'pencil'. one end made grey marks and the other end erased them. Max gave me the date, which was a way of telling today apart from every other day. I was supposed to write whatever I felt like writing in the book. It's hard to remember all the symbols from scratch, and I didn't even know what half the marks are supposed to be used for. But it was a start.  
  
March 2, 2010  
  
Max showe me more about the relatonshir betwen written language and spokn language, i don't know exactly how too writ all these words becaus i'm doing this from memore, it helps if I read a book for examples, but Max says i should lern how to talk  
  
March 3  
  
today Max surprized me with a bocks of books. he said i could start reading them after lunch, and he'd help me with all the parts i didn't understan. Max said i didnt write much for liking to reed so much. i said it hurt my hand to write. like now.  
  
March 4  
  
Max showed me how to hold the pencl properly. it flt weird at fist bot i got the hang of it. i told him my cloths were too itchy and could i pleze not wear them for todai. he told me id have to gt used to it. its odd. some of the words he speks ive never heard before in my life and i understand him. it might be the lessns. i dont know.  
  
i started rding the books i got now. because Max helps me with them, i can understand them better. today we read Huckleberry Finn, about a boy who got lost on an island, but not really because they were hiding from the peopel, i forgot why though.  
  
Max has been teching me more words. i can spell a lot of them proprly but not all of them. Max said it might be a wile. i can understrand that.  
  
March 6  
  
I didn't get to write in my journal yesterday because Max took me to see a teacher. She didn't seem surprised by my appearance, and I think Max had that all worked out. The teacher was a lot faster than Max was, and I learned a lot. She taught me all the common proper ways to capitalize and use puncuation, not to mention learn to speak better and more words. And how to decipher written words into spoken.  
  
Today, Max is teaching me a lot more. It's much easier to understand him.  
  
March 7  
  
There's one thing I didn't understand yesterday. Max was watching me while I ate, so I asked him, "Why are you watching at me?" and he said, "It's just intriging." or something. I have no idea what that word was, and I decided not to ask him, because I didn't know if it was good or bad. I'm still afraid this might be a product of the Lab. (I capitalize lab because its important.) I hope Max doesn't read this. What was the feeling again? I think i'm afraid. I don't know of what, though.  
  
March 8  
  
Something really scary happened last night. I don't know why, but it looked like I was back in the lab. The people there surrounded me and looking at me. Then they dragged me to the training room I used to go to. I don't remember much, but instead of the usual pokÃ©mon, there was a huge beast and it kept chasing me. Then I woke up from sleeping. I was screaming and didn't know it, until Max came in. He said I just had a nightmare. I didn't care what it was, it was too real.  
  
I'm afraid of going back to the Lab.  
  
March 9  
  
The nightmare didn't happen this time.  
  
Max and I finished Huckleberry Finn. We started on Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne. That one was very confusing. I don't think we'll ever finish.  
  
There's too many things for Max to teach me. But he seemed very surprised at one thing. He said it was Math, but the books at the Lab said it was Geometry or Algebra or something. He seemed surprised by how much I could do. I spent a lot of time on those books at the lab until I decided I couldn't learn anything from them. I didn't even know what it was for, but I learned it anyway. Max put up a very complicated problem on the board, and i figured it out in a minute. He said I didn't need any more teaching in Math. That was good because I was hungry.  
  
March 13  
  
I didn't feel like writing on the 10th because I had that dream again. On the 11th I was still too scared. I was convinced it was real. Max tried to explain the nature of dreams, but he had to go into a big explaination of the subconciuosness, but just him there made me feel a lot better. I'm glad he taught me how to talk.  
  
March 14  
  
I stayed up last night so I wouldn't have the dream again. I passed the time by reading a few books, one was Beowulf that had been transalated to read easier. If that was the easy read, I didn't want to see the original version.  
  
I hope Max doesn't find out. I hope he doesn't read this at all.  
  
I don't know how I'll stay awake in the morning. Max always says the coffee he drinks wakes him up. It smells good. Maybe I'll try it.  
  
Morning March 14  
  
I don't like coffee. It's too bitter. But I had to pretend I liked it so I could stay awake. Max didn't seem fooled. I hope he doesn't do something bad.  
  
Max showed me the CD player today. (CD is Compact Disc, although it looks like a regular one) And he played music. I like music. I wonder how it works. Max got a book that explained the mechanics of it. It had a lot of Math, so it was easy to understand. I'd write it all down, but I can just refer back to the book if I forget anything.  
  
Afternoon March 14  
  
The coffee wore off. I'm too sleepy to write much right now. Max is going to hurt me, I know it.  
  
March 15  
  
If Max hurt me, I was asleep right through it. Max said he just put me to bed. He also told me I shouldn't stay up all night again. Max didn't take off my clothes before I went to sleep. . . It hurts all over now. Max said I could take off my shirt just for today. That felt good.  
  
March 16  
  
I asked Max if I could not wear a shirt again today. He said I had to. I was mad, but not for long. At least it's not torture. Not painful torture, anyway.  
  
Max took me to the grocery store today. I was happy until he made me put on an extra coat. It was a very big coat. I had to keep a low profile, because people weren't used to seeing things like me every day. Is everybody ignorant?  
  
The coat pushed against my tail and it was hard to walk with it against my legs. Max said he wished I didn't have to go through this. Why did I?  
  
Max did have a purpouse for me at the grocery store. Besides telling me not to look anyone directly in the eye, he had me fetch things on his list. There's a lot of food at the store. I wonder where Max gets his money. He has to have a job, doesn't he? But he teaches me all day. I don't understand it.  
  
Max said he probably should have had me wear some socks in hindsight. Maybe next time.  
  
March 17  
  
I asked Max if I could not wear a shirt again. He muttered something about spoiling me, and said I didn't have to. He also said there wouldn't be lessons today, because he had a lot of things to do. Max gave me a couplee things. He said he didn't want any noise, so I played the CD player through the earphones. (So I could only hear it) He also gave me some candy. Candy tastes good, but not after a while. I read most of the day. I didn't come out of my room for lunch, Max just gave me a large cup of water and some food. I wonder what he was doing that was so important. I hope he doesn't find this out, but I didn't wear pants today, either.  
  
March 18  
  
Same thing happened again today. I wonder what he's doing. He told me tonight that that was the last time and I should prepare for lessons tomorrow. I asked him if I had to wear a shirt. He said yes.  
  
I still don't like clothes.  
  
March 19  
  
I guess I don't have to wear a clothes. Max said something came up and he really really had to go out of the house for a day and a night. He fixed me food early this morning. But today I was going to look at the entire house.  
  
I found another room above Max's room. It was an attic, as I recall. There was a lot of things in there to look at, but I found something intriguing. (Max taught me that word.) Or maybe it wasn't.  
  
It might have been horrifying.  
  
There was an old photograph, dated 1982. Max was in it, although he looked a lot different. . . younger, I think. He would have been, it was twenty-eight years ago. But I recognized one of the six other guys that were standing with him. He was a doctor from the Lab. His name, it said, was Marcel Tybalt.  
  
The box that I found them in had papers. They told about a genetic research project, about making a clone of the pokÃ©mon Mew, but changing the code so it would be more controllable. Max, or as the paper said, Professor Maxamillian Jones, was the cheif of security. He had a Master's degree in Engineering, and he preferred to be called by his title, but he didn't actually have anything to do with the research, or the funding, or the machines. But he was excellent at 'manipulating officials and politicians'. Not only was he the head of security, but he was representative. He convinced politicians to advance legalization of cloning, and bribed law enforcement to look the other way.  
  
I was afraid again. I went back to my room and tried to get my mind off that by listening to music and reading.  
  
I hope Max doesn't read this.  
  
----  
  
And now. . . review! Yes, review my precious creation! Because the story isn't that linear to begin with, I hope you all are prepared for what happens in the next chapter! Until then, Ciao! 


	3. Chapter Three

Hey hey, ya'll! This is going to be the shortest installment in the story, but only because I had so very few points to make before I closed topic.

Chapter Three

Of all the understanding in the world, I don't see why one has to linger on any particular subject for so long. I guess the term is 'brood', but I don't _want _to think about it. . . I had that nightmare again.

I hate that place, and yet it lives on in my mind. . . I wish it would go away. . . but it doesn't. The harder I try, the more vivid it is. I wished I knew what was going on. . .

I had retreated outdoors; Max tells me not to do that without his permission, but it was still dark outside, so I don't think I had to worry. I did anyway. There was so much to worry about. . . how do people ever live in this world?

The sun was about to rise. I could tell because I always got up before it did, and I know what time it is supposed to rise, and it's in about five minutes. I'd have to inside before then. . . Max might find me out here.

"Steven!"

Too late.

The doc rushed up the hillside, and landed right next to me. He didn't seem angry, he seemed. . . worried.

"Are you alright Steven? What are you doing outside?"

I didn't respond for a little while. "I had that dream again."

Max knew what I was talking about. It was always the same dream. . . always. Two weeks, and I had the dream on and off. But why would Max want to know? It wasn't his problem, _he _wasn't having the dream. He's always concerned about me. And one might, but what reason?

He found me, took me in and is trying to find me a purpose. Maybe he didn't need a reason. Not all people are alike, as concluded by his being nice to me in the first place. Was he really concerned about me?

Max just looked at me for a little bit, and the sun right then broke out over the horizon. Care for someone without cause. . . what's that called? There has to be a word for it.

"Steve. . . there's probably something I ought to tell you, and it's probably something you don't want to hear right now. . ."

"I saw the photos." I abruptly told him. After all, they were something I didn't want to see.

"When?"

"You were out for the last two days. I got curious and looked around."

Max looked a bit dumbfounded when I told him that. "Err. . . you might want an explanation then."

Suddenly, without any reason, I was mad at Max. After all, everything lined up. If he hadn't worked on the project in the first place, everyone might have gone to jail, and they wouldn't make _me_. I was suffering because of him!

"You might as well better." I crossed my eyebrows to give him the impression that I was a bit peeved.

Max sighed. "I'll tell you the entire story, then. It was 1979. . . Marcel Tybalt and I had just gotten out of college when he came to me with a proposal, one that might change our lives. We were to create a pokémon. . . the most powerful in the world. he had gotten his degree in Genetic Engineering. . . I had mine in Engineering, so I thought he wanted me to build everything needed. He didn't want that. I had more useful purposes. He wanted my uncanny knack for persuading people to look the other way. What we were doing was highly illegal. . . of course, I didn't know it at the time."

Suddenly my eyes grew wide, "You didn't?"

"No. Marc tricked me into doing something that I would have otherwise thought as being wrong. . ."

"And you found out eventually. . ?"

"It was my fault the project failed. After I quit, there went protection, and they hurried the project along too fast. 1998. . . Mewtwo was finished. I didn't realize he survived until. . ."

"Until what?"

". . . I can't tell you now. Later."

"You always tell me everything later!"

Max sighed and shook his head at the ground, "I wish there was another way. . ."

"So do I." I sank to the ground from the position I was in, and just stared into the sunrise.

"Steven, I'll probably need to tell you anyway."

"Yeah?"

"I was only holding off in the first place because I wanted to wait until you could understand. I'll give you the rundown: Marcel survived the encounter with the final days of the Mewtwo project, and he almost immediately started working on another. Convinced all of his colleagues were dead, he worked alone for six years trying to create a formula that could give him maximum flexibility in his creation. . . he finally figured it wasn't the power a pokémon gave, but the results it could create. That's where you came from. Now. . ." Max held down some papers that were in his hands, "I was away the past two days getting information on Marcel's operation. You know you're number seventeen, right? Here's a list of the others. . ."

I was wondering why Max was going through all the trouble of telling me this.

"Number one. . . pidgey; Number two, pikachu; 3, bulbasaur; 4, charmander; 5, chikorita; 6. . ." Max dragged on for a while, and handed me a sheet after he finished with it. there were also some photographs of the specimens. . . not that I had the heart to look at them. . .

"16, rhydon; 17. . . rattata. . ."

He paused before saying that as if it would mean something. There was a single picture of me from back in the lab. . . I was in shadow mostly, but it was obviously me. . .

"22, dratini. . ."

There were at least six photographs of her. She had evolved into a dragonair at some time. Unlike some of the others. . . she seemed direfully out of place, like she knew there was a better life. . . like I did. . . her eyes told all. There was an aura of fear in them, even in the two-dimensionalness of the photograph. . .

I worried for her now. Unlike the lifeless zombie-stares from some of the others. . . she was an angel in the dark.

Angel in the dark. . .

Number twenty-two gave hope to me all over again. I have to meet her. . . somehow. . .

"Steven?"

I jumped when Max suddenly started talking again, or more directly to get my attention.

"You've been looking at that photograph for a while now."

I looked back to my hands. The photograph of twenty-two was becoming slippery with my sweat. Max just looked at me.

"So it's high time you did what you've needed to do all along."

"What do you mean?"

"You seem anxious when you look at that photograph. . . and you're going to have to leave now, anyway." Max stood up.

"What? What do you mean?" I stood up beside him.

". . . the things it took me to get these photos. . . You probably shouldn't be here with me. Here's how it is: I'm going to die."

I puzzled at this. What did he mean by that? He wasn't going to. . . _die _die, was he?

"The lengths it took me to get this information. . . Marcel's sent a hit man after me. I'm done for. . ."

"But why?" I asked arms spread, "Why did you do this? Why are you telling me these things?"

"Because I deserve better!" Max started tearing up in his eyes, "I want payback for all those years Marc took away from me, and I. . . I can't do it." He dropped his head, "I don't have the ability. . . I need you."

"You're using me!"

"I'm helping you!" Max looked at me straight in the eye, and placed his hands on my shoulders, "There's not anything else you can do with life in a world of humans. You can't expect of everyone what I have given you. . ."

"And what is that?" I brushed his hands off my shoulders harshly, "being manipulated by everyone? Anyone? Even if they claim to be friendly there's no one to trust. . ."

"There's her. . ."

I looked back at my photograph. ". . . you're right. You're right. I might have, anyway."

"I usually am."

I thought about that for a moment, "Manipulative skills aren't only used for bad, aren't they?"

"I was-"

A very loud, very sudden noise rang through the air. Very loud. . . I had heard it once before. . . it was a gun!

Max fell to the ground before my eyes. . . a wound was in his chest. . . someone far away started running. I fell to Max's side. . .

"Max. . . I can't do this. . ."

"Don't worry about me. You worry about twenty-two now. . . and be successful, because you're like a son to me." His final words.

"Thanks for everything. . . dad. I love you."

That was the last straw. Marcel was going to die like Max did. . . only it wasn't going to be nearly as quick. Marcel was going to pay for what he did. I needed to find a pathway back to the lab.

. . . or not. Maybe if I didn't try a direct route. . .

I followed Max's final advice and headed off into the woods. towards the sunrise.

I wanted to meet twenty-two so very badly right now. . .

----

Three more chapters to go! And now for advertisement: Sign up for your Final Fantasy: The Last Hero character(s) today! See my author bio for more details. Ciao!


	4. Chapter Four

I'm sorry about this in advance. This chapter contains a whole lot of romance near the end, so if you'd rather not read, that's fine. These chapters seem to be shrinking. . . See Notes Below.

  


Chapter Four

  


Maybe I should turn around and go back, I thought to myself. It was quite hasty of me to so hurriedly rush off without thought for provision.

It wasn't the first time that doubt crossed my mind. I knew full well if I went back there would be twenty or thirty or so various hit men and bodyguards and security people out there waiting for me to deny my own conscience.

The thought also crossed my mind. . . well, not so much crossed as I did sit and ponder it for a while. . . was that there thoughts were programmed directly into my brain. . . That Marcel had thought this beforehand and took precautions on his creations that ever they should escape from his hand, that they might act unnaturally and do illogical things that might have a negative effect on their escape. Specifically, recapture.

Now I had run for many days as of yet. I couldn't help but secretly thank Marcel for spelling his own downfall by training me as much as possible in the lab. It left me quite fit, and I could run for hours at a time without tiring. Maybe this was normal for my half-species. . . I didn't know. I should have done more research into pokémon.

I cursed Marcel for acting so quickly and cleanly. That was probably why he seemed to have so easily wiped out any hope I might have.

But it wasn't if I had been running in vain. . . I actually kept in a forty-mile area around Max's house. The house was low in a valley, and not too far from the place were mountains. . . lots of mountains and hills. I had set up sentry perimeter points so I could keep a close eye on his operations around the house without being detected so easily.

Even that kind of dedication didn't stop odd thoughts from crossing my mind.

Setting a complex web of spying that way might sound easy, sans the running everywhere before the hour is up, but this, after all, is a valley. Wild pokémon frequent it just as much as Marcel's goons do. Just as vicious towards a hybrid like me as they are made out to be towards humans in the textbooks, I fought a lot of battles.

So now it shouldn't come as a surprise to you to say that I evolved.

It was about two days ago, as a matter of fact. It was during a fight with a wild Onix. Those huge things are more than pesky around the mountainous areas, and yet so easy to fight. But as I was closing up the battle, meaning that I was tormenting the beast enough for it to force its hasty retreat, there was an odd tingling sensation in the back of my head. The Onix had fled the scene by then, but I just stood there for a second, rubbing the back of my head at the base of my skull. . . the soft part just above the neck.

It was a euphoric feeling that I hadn't experienced before, and I continued massaging that area, until something seemed to click.

Such a shame that humans never can feel the power of evolution.

Its as if I gained the strength from a hundred more battles right then and there, and as if I never ran the previous twenty miles before hand, as if I had just eaten my fill but could still act even more quickly and efficiently than I could previously, as if. . .

Not as if. There were also a thousand new feelings that I hadn't ever felt. A greater sense of hope, of accomplishment, and skill, of. . .

Something. Of something. I couldn't put my finger in it, but it was something very new for me indeed.

My body changed, of course. My fur became rugged and brown, my incisors lengthened to half an inch, my ears grew in size, I gained an extra set of whiskers, and my tail became more rat-like. Not to mention that all my muscles grew in size and my entire frame grew in its girth and height.

Best thing I ever felt, and the feeling kept going on for days. It was like a new toy or gadget; you linger on using it until you got used to it. This was the moment of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as possible.

But duty was duty, I had to find out what Marcel was planning to do to me regardless.

  


A week later. It seemed obvious that Marcel (I was still pretty sure it was him organizing the front even though I never saw him once) was organizing his forces to do a massive sweep of the area. My new ears could hear a hundred yards further than my old ones could, and that helped me a lot in that aspect. But I did need a plan.

I initially decided to move out of the area for a while. That didn't seem a good plan, because obviously Marc was at the same time developing a way to keep an eye on the entire forty-mile circle around Max's house. So I could move completely out of the circle. But I couldn't. I knew that somewhere was the secret entrance to Marcel's lab.

I had to work a lot faster. I had to piece together what I knew of the location of his hideout. I only wish I paid attention that near month ago. If only. . . But had I been as smart and attentive then as I was now, Things would happen much differently, so I can't exactly blame myself at all.

I was running a routine between the huge oak on the northwest hill I dubbed 'Sanctuary' and the west mountaintop plateau, when I heard a strange cry. The cry seemed to be that of a Dragonair. Considering Dragonairs are both rare and live much farther south of here, this was something I needed to investigate.

Besides, I had a very precise feeling about who that cry was coming from.

And when I reached the clearing, I still couldn't believe it.

Twenty-two.

A possible coincidence, but yet I felt a fear as though I didn't know what to do right then, or if anything I might do was the right thing. Anxiety.

Twenty-two was just as she had been in the photographs. The Dragonair part of her figure was very generous, as she was about seven feet tall even without the tail. Her skin was a sky blue on the back, blending well with the pure white on her front. Her hair was long and brown, and then unusually clean. Like me, she didn't have a stitch of clothing on.

She didn't see me, though I saw her very clearly. And she was crying.

I wondered for a moment whether I should leave and not come back. But she did need me. . .

What should I say? What should I do? Maybe I shouldn't do anything. Maybe I should stay away and just keep tabs on her.

While calculating the effects of what my actions might be, Twenty-two just turned to look at me.

And I should say, we held that stare for the longest time.

"Who. . . who are you?" She said to me.

But she said it in the Dragonair tongue. I had known of my inherent pokémon language for a great while, but never considered speaking it because my focus was on English. Books can't be printed in the pokémon language. So I answered her as she could only understand:

"I'm number seventeen." said I in the Raticate language. I held up the back of my hand to show her the '17' tattoo.

She held up her hand to show a very clear '22'. "What is this?"

"Twenty-two. You're number twenty-two."

"I have heard of you before. . . you escaped the dark place."

"The laboratory. Yes, that was me." I crept closer so as the awkwardness might die down some.

"Will you help me?"

"I will try as hard as I can." She was now the most important thing in the world, it seemed. A foolish thought. . . I was deviating from my path. But when I looked at her. . . all I could see was the fearful little Rattata hybrid that I was not so long ago.

I needed to keep her safe.

But I couldn't seem to break her gaze, and she couldn't seem to break mine. There was something stirring inside me of some sort. Neither of us spoke a word, yet we were still slowly drawing closer to each other. She put out her hand, I put out mine to touch it. We stood up from the forest floor together, and our pace toward each other was quicker. Our bodies came into contact.

I never wanted to leave her arms. Her body was warm against mine, and she placed her head against my shoulder. And we stood there for maybe longer than we stared at each other earlier. We grew tired, and decided to retreat to a comfortable position of the forest floor. I almost fell on top of her.

Once down, I still couldn't break my gaze with her when we regained eye contact. I brought my face as close to hers as possible, And in a gut instinct, placed my lips on hers. It was the most comfortable position I had ever been in, the most comfortable position I would ever be in. Or so I thought.

  


I'll leave the events of the night up to your imagination from this following information

  


I read from biology textbooks the act of reproduction between animals. I never tried to look at the pictures, as the seemed the most repulsive thing possible back then, but I was curious enough to read through anyway. I recalled back to how it described why animals committed this act, and could see how much it was right. Even back then, I when I could only make out a few words every sentence, I had no doubt as this 'drive' had to be something pleasant.

I understated myself.

  


  


So. . . Next chapter is going to be a lot cooler than this. I'm not going to give away anything. Wait and see! Remember, when this story finishes, I begin Final Fantasy: The Last Hero. If you care about my welfare at all, send me your character! Until next time, Ciao!


	5. Chapter Five and Epilogue

FINAL CHAPTER. Five and Epilogue. Hope you've enjoyed reading Number Seventeen!

  


Chapter Five

  


Dawn shone over the mountain range. I woke up, still on top of twenty-two, and she was still asleep under me. She was so beautiful, as though she were. . . one of the stars of the night, come down to the earth to be with me. Yes. . . that was what she was. A beautiful star. She was more beautiful than the oceans. . . the most precious gem in all eternity. She was. . . well, quite frankly, she was too good to be true.

But that suddenly started me thinking.

Max had taught be a bit about logic, but I could see, now, anyway. How did twenty-two get _out_ of the laboratory, if there were goons sweeping the entire forest? And _why_ was it twenty-two? She didn't seem much more powerful than me, and she wasn't as learned as me, so why would she be an exception?

Unless Marcel had _some_thing to do with it. Did he release her, having known my feelings for her? He must have seen the pictures Max smuggled out of the lab. . . more of my fingerprints must have lingered on twenty-two's photo. And that would mean that they were going to trace her somehow. . . and _that _would mean. . .

A sound echoed through my mind, one that came from directly behind me. The unmistakable sound of a cocked pistol. I stood slowly, and turned around. A bald-headed, large henchman-type was standing there with a .44 aimed at my head.

"Got 'im, boss." He spoke into his walkie-talkie, "Bait woiked. The boys'll be here shortly."

"I suppose you've won, then." I had to concede defeat. After all, it was a failure on _my_ behalf. . .

"You talked!" The bald man exclaimed, "You did talk! And I taught dat was just a roumor!"

"Yes. . . yes, I talk. What of it?"

"Nothin, I s'pose. Anything yous gonna be saying 'fore wes drag yas back to de labs?"

"Yes, your diction is terrible."

He growled.

"I suppose there's not going to be any way out of my current position, is there?"

"Yous can bet on that."

"Please stop spitting when you talk. Your breath is also quite unbearable." Actually, I wasn't trying to be rude, just making a point. He was obviously mad at me, but said nothing and kept the gun pointed straight at my skull. Right then, Twenty-two woke up.

"S. . . Seventeen? What's happening?" She whispered in the Pokémon language as she rose to a sitting position.

The henchman spoke again, "You too, stand up."

She stood up, suddenly terrified when she saw him. She could understand commands like that in English, but it was rooted almost subconciously in her, like all the other test subjects. I held her close to me, as this might have been the last time I'd ever see her.

I heard voices coming from downhill. They were here. . . and I was returning to the eternal torment which was known as the laboratory.

  


The lab was as dark as I had remembered it being, and probably just as frightening, as the halls still cast eerie dim lights at all the wrong intervals, and the shadows concealed who knows what. How anybody could work here was beyond me, but it did give the place the evil atmosphere it needed to hold on to the lives of countless Hybrids like myself. As the hallways twisted and turned, I looked over at twenty-two, whom they drugged and were carrying, still bound with ropes like me. Had she known she was helping trying to fish me out? I doubted it, she was as innocent as a person could get. She wouldn't even understand why she was let go. . .

I thought about what happened last night. I would do it again if I had the chance, and run away with her to the outer edges of the world, had I not been tied to my task of trying to defeat Marcel. I didn't have any idea what to do, even then. . . I hoped to whoever was still good in this world that the situation would present a solution to itself. . .

They tossed me and twenty-two in a cell. "The doc'll be here in five minutes. Enjoy your time alive." The goon squad left, much to the relief of my olfactory senses.

I had evolved since I had last been here, but the drugs they put in me were still effecting my muscles, and my strength wouldn't be any good, so I'd have to use my wits. I remembered reading in a book in the library about knots. They tied me up with something that looked like a square, but the loop didn't seem to catch right. I tugged at the loose area that bound my feet, and it came undone quite easily. I used my feet to escape the knot that kept my hands together, and I was free. The jail-type bars that separated me from the hallway were still to strong for my weakened state, so I approached twenty-two instead.

"Can you hear me?" I whispered to her in my natural language.

"Seventeen. . ." She replied, "I'm sorry. . ."

"For what? You couldn't have known what was happening. . ."

"But I did. . ."

I was in shock. "How?"

"I overheard them while they kept me in the release chamber. . . they said something about being able to find you, but I didn't know it was to bring you back. . ."

"It's alright. . ." I held her head against my furred chest, "It's not your fault. I was trying to find a way back, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"I'm going to destroy the laboratory."

"What? How?"

"I. . . don't know. But I'm going to put a stop to everything wrong Marcel has done."

"He'll kill you before you got a chance!"

"He doesn't know me that well."

Footsteps sounded, alerting me that someone was approaching. I grabbed the ropes and loosely hung them around my feet and hands, to make it look like I was still tied up. Marcel himself entered the room, In his white labcoat, and standing in the shadows of the poor lighting. Always like himself.

"Seventeen! Well well well. . . I always knew good things were to come from you, but this! This just takes all. . ."

"What do you mean, good things?"

"I see Max spared no expense in teaching you English, so I might as well divulge to you what you want to know. It is, in fact, a good thing that you escaped. I was afraid none of my experiments were going to be intelligent enough to learn their own ways out of the tightest of secured places. . ."

"If you wanted intelligence, why force all your experiments to only fight?"

"My dear seventeen, intelligence is so much more than book-smarts. It was the conditions I wanted my experiments to grow up and despise the lair they were made from, and for only one goal. . ."

"You mean. . . you meant for all your experiments to hate you?"

"I am a scientist after all. I minored in psychology so I know a thing or two about how the mind works. This environment was purposeful so when the experiments were released, they'd run at my very sight. . . oh yes, and it will be only the first of a long series of conquests. . ."

"Conquests?"

"Yes, The experiments only know how to fight and destroy! I only have the power to stop them, and with that I will be the most well paid exterminator on the Earth. . ."

"But there's more."

"Much. The released will be laced with an airborne virus that will undoubtedly turn humans into Hybrids, themselves. . ."

"And me?"

"You're to be destroyed, and your DNA fused with mine after twenty years, when the world is only Hybrids. I would not be traced as a destroyer of the new species, and I would retire comfortably as I always dreamed. . ."

"A Hybrid."

"Yes, my dream."

"And how many lives have you sacrificed for your 'dream'?"

"At least a few thousand."

"Won't you need time to synthesize the virus? If you created us all, then. . ."

"Oh, the virus was the first thing made. I must have forgotten to tell you: you used to be human."

I gaped in shock. I _used_ to be human? He stared down at me, pleased by my reaction. He's been planning _everything_! He knew all I was going to do, because he altered my mind that way! He made me think I could get the upper hand! And above all, I was someone else. . . I was someone else. . .

Or was I? Was I really someone else? Maybe he was trying to make me. . .

_Yes! _Marcel was trying to make me despair! He wanted to think I had no hope of getting out, and no hope of ever stopping him! Or maybe. . . he wanted me to think that I would know this. After all, he did just tell me his entire plan. . .

Maybe I was supposed to know _that_. . . It was a paradox.

"I see you're confused." He said, "Good. . . you were supposed to be. Guards!"

However, the drugs also ran their course through my system. I simply flippedkicked him in the jaw. He fell over quite undramatically, but I didn't care. I needed to take twenty-two out of here.

Up came the henchmen. I quickly took them out via a quick punch to either of them. I grabbed twenty-two by the hand and led her out into the hall. "Idiots! After them!" Marcel called out.

  


We'd been running for an hour or more. They almost caught us about sixty nine times, and it was getting exceedingly difficult to keep away from them. Then it happened. Everything happened.

I was finally captured in a trap that was set up in a dank hallway almost on the bottom floor. And they dragged me through the dark halls to somewhere I had never been before. It must have been the heart of the operation, in the room that glowed green and was filled to the brim with machines and devices that didn't seem to have any useful purpose. Where they took twenty-two, I'll never know.

I was attached to a large machine in the middle of the room, and Marcel stood behind a control panel. "That was some kick you gave me." He said, "I could have died. But I didn't. Now, this won't hurt a bit. . ."

"Wait." I said, "You didn't expect that kick."

"No, that was unexpected. Why? Do you think that'll have any bearing one what will happen now?"

_Bing!_ All my hopes rested on the fact that Marcel was still human, and still capable of mistakes. I knew what to do now. . . and I knew I was going to die doing it.

"It won't. But this will." I took a deep breath, and energy started pouring in around me.

"Wha. . . What's happening?!"

"Hyperbeam. You can thank Max for planting a book on attack moves in your library." I didn't care I was going to die. I should have never existed. I should have never been subjected to his experiment. I'll never know what my past was, or if twenty-two would ever survive. But I finally had my revenge.

"Max. . . NO!" Marcel ran to the doors, but they were locked, and he had ordered no one to disturb him, no matter the noise. I had him where I wanted him.

Max. . . this is for you.

  


Epilogue

  


Experiment number seventeen did not survive. Marcel was killed, and the lab collapsed completely. All members of his organization were arrested, and no evidence of the Hybrids remained.

  


But number twenty-two survived. And. . . she had a son.

  


End

  


  


The end of a great story. Be sure to catch the next one coming up: Final Fantasy: The Last Hero! Check my author page for details. Ciao!


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